


The Things That Rot (Burn The Witch)

by Vendetta23



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse Aftermath, Abusive Dean Winchester, Aftermath of Violence, Alive Mary Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because there is always another way, Canon Divergence on the origin of magic, Doing good to people, Guns, He couldn't deal with his brother anymore, Mother-Son Relationship, PTSD, Past Abuse, Potions, Recovery, Runaway Sam, Sam is a witch, Sam will persue a better life, Sam-Centric, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Supportive Castiel, Supportive Mary, Violence, Witchcraft, witch!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendetta23/pseuds/Vendetta23
Summary: "He was in the middle of the woods, he had been living there for almost three months now, he had found peace, he had learned many things."Sam ran off and became a witch, learning that there is always another way. (SEASON 12 SPOILERS)





	1. Life.

               Unpronounceable words filled the room, ancient sentences being repeated one after another, the candle flames flickering and casting beautiful patterns of shadow on the walls. On the center of the room, Sam waved his hands and moved his body from one side to the other on the rhythm of the wind that grew stronger outside, shaking the trees and making the leaves dance frenetically. As the ritual advanced, it began to rain. Sam opened his eyes, stepping out of the trance for a moment to watch the raindrops trace their way down the glass of the windows of the cabin. That reminded him of where he was, it grounded him. He was in the middle of the woods, he had been living there for almost three months now, he had found peace, he had learned many things.

               The cabin wasn’t much, but it was his, for the first time in his life he thought of something other than a filthy motel room when he thought of home. The wooden floor creaked when he stepped on it, the wooden walls were covered in dry plants hanging from it and in shelves sustaining flasks of ingredients and potions – although he thought it was pretentious to call them that – and old books on the verge of rotting. The whole cabin smelled of wet grass, even if it hadn’t rained for days, and that was one of his favorite things about it. As he was trying to concentrate on his task once again, he found himself struggling not to think about what his mother would think of this whole situation. She had just returned from the dead, and he did not want to disappoint her. She was a hunter, and ironically, she ended up being the reason he could muster courage to pursue this path, and even though he was sure of it, it still felt like betrayal, as if he was leaving his family behind to Stanford once again. No, it was worse, he had become all the things he had been taught to hate and to hunt relentlessly all his life. But that was no novity, he had felt dirty and guilty of being something unholy all of his life, he didn’t even need the demon blood to feel that way.

               Inside Sam’s heart, the idea of calling himself a witch had been growing, warming up his chest the closer he came to accept the idea. It just felt right. He had not gone evil, he had not started believing he should hurt people to obtain power to himself, he had just learned to listen to the earth, he had taught his hands to heal and his tongue to pronounce spells that were meant to help. He had seen it all, monster, demons, God and the Devil themselves, and life as he understood it was not enough to give things the meaning they lacked, it was not enough to explain the order of things or the terrifying chaos that still permeated them. There was something more out there, and he went out to seek it.

               His relationship with Dean had been already decaying past the point of no return from the day they started hunting together. It hurt Sam to admit he couldn’t do it anymore, that he had done everything he could to make it work and that despite all that, Dean would never trust him. He didn’t know why. So, for months ago, he packed while Dean was out to get another pack of beer, he stole a car and went out switching roads and vehicles, not stop to even sleep, Dean was a good tracker, until he got far away from his brother. Sam left his car on the side of the road and covered it with branches when he got to a large natural reserve on the south of the country. The woods seemed to whisper to him, calling him as the mother he never had while growing up would call him, a scared and yet curious little boy, to her arms. Wandering through the forest, he felt like he belonged. In less than a day of walking he stumbled across that old cabin, as if it was meant to be.

               Now, Sam’s fingers caressed the dark feathers of a raven that was lying on his table, candles surrounded the wounded animal, it’s breathing becoming more vigorous as Sam said the last words of the spell. He turned his palms to the ceiling, uncovering the bird, afraid of looking to the animal that he had rescued and that now could be dead because of him, a mispronunciation of words, a lack of believe in the power of the magic he was summoning, that was what it took for another thing to be added up to the pile of ghosts Sam carried. But the raven flapped his wings, spooking out Sam, that watched amazed as the bird started to fly all over the cabin, playful and yet violent as it looked for a way out. _Life_. Sam caught himself smiling, he felt clean, pure at last. The raven stormed out the open door, it had stopped raining by then, it was free to conquer the woods. Sam was left behind, but it felt as he was flying too.

               Then, a loud bang, and the sound of something falling though the tree branches. A man revealed himself at the door, the metal of his pistol shinning from the fading light of day.

               - Hello Sammy – Dean’s voice sounded tired and raspy – Missed me?


	2. Death.

— Dean, I can... – Sam could not hold back the need to justify himself every time, even when he felt scared to death – I can explain

— What is there to explain? – Dean gesticulated towards the shelves full of potions and the plants hanging peacefully from the walls, gun still in hand – Everything is here in the open.

— Not everything, not everything – Sam took a step towards the door, freezing when Dean pointed his gun at him. At _him_.  

— You stay right there, Sam. Don’t want you turning me into a frog

— What?

— Your heard me – Dean stepped through the door.

— Dean, this is bullshit, you know I would never – besides not wanting to hurt Dean, Sam didn’t know how to turn anyone into a frog, he didn’t pursue that kind of magic, that was not what magic was supposed to be used for, at least not to him.

— No, Sammy, I don’t know that ‘you would never’, I don’t know you at all – Dean’s mouth was twisting in disgust as he looked at the candles of the ritual that had just taken place – What kind of dark mumbo jumbo were you up to?

— I was helping a wounded raven – Sam spoke carefully, glancing at the pistol.

— Oh, I shot a bird on my way in – Sam’s hands clenched into fists – You helped it all right. – Once again, Sam felt like whatever he did, he would never make a damn difference. Everything was out of his control, Dean was pulling the strings, as always.

— Why? – Sam whispered, his throat tensing, making his voice sound raspy – Why did you do that? – He knew what was coming, Dean would try to find a way of making everything Sam’s fault.

— Why? Why did you run away from home? Again. Why did you leave me and mom behind? – There it was – And for what? For _this_? – he gesticulated again, violently. Sam kept quiet, at first because of the overwhelming guilt, but then because he understood his reasons were his own, and he didn’t want to open up to Dean. Never again. He would not let Dean know the battles he was fighting inside his head or how hard he was trying to drift away from what Dean called ‘home’ because that home was always weighting down on his chest, keeping him from breathing. He would never tell Dean how badly he wanted to make a difference because he was terrified to end up like his brother, or his father. Sam would not justify his actions, because he was so certain of what he was doing that no one’s approval would matter, and also because he was taking himself away from Dean, and that was the worst thing he could do. Dean would never get to know him, it would be as if he had lost his younger brother.

— Held up here in the middle of nowhere playing the Wizard of Oz, how are you gonna help people that way? How are you gonna keep pretending you are one of the good guys? – Dean kept pushing, his voice getting louder and letting rage show itself – ‘Cause you know you need it. To pretend you are a good person, standing up to your messed-up morals and shit when _I_ – Dean came closer to Sam – I _see_ through you, and you are not one of the good guys.

               Dean was not the only one who was mad, Sam’s hands were shaking with anger, his blood pumping as if there was something animalistic inside of him screaming to make itself noticed, its existence validated. Sam didn’t fight it, he had the right to feel that way. Dean’s words would have made an effect on Sam months before. Then, Sam still felt there was something inheritably evil about him, because of the demon blood, because he felt guilty of his mother’s death even though he was just a baby when it all happened. The original sin, Sam felt its mark on him. But now his mother had come back. Now, the demon blood made Sam’s magic stronger, more powerful and capable to make life flourish. He had seen it with the raven. There was nothing evil about him, he was just Sam. No matter what Dean said, that couldn’t be taken away from him. So Sam stood quiet, and this time that meant defiance.

— So that’s how it’s going to be, hun? – Dean shook his head – You know I hate witches, and you know what we do with them, or what _we_ used to do – he drew a circle in the air with his pistol – Turn around, hands behind your back – Sam shivered, he didn’t want that, the humiliation.

— Dean, I’ll come with you – he would figure out what to do next – You don’t have to do that – Dean stood there in silence for a moment, staring blankly at the wall. Then he threw himself violently towards Sam and pushed him into the wall. Some flasks trembled and fell on the floor, shattering, and Sam felt the cold metal of the pistol against his temple. The broken glass on the floor exhaled a bitter smell.

— I said hands behind your back – Sam was petrified with terror, that scene reminded him of what Dean could do to him now that he considered Sam, now more than ever, a thing to be hunted down. So Dean turned him around and shoved him into the wall again, hitting Sam’s head in the corner of a shelf. Sam didn’t resist when Dean grabbed his hands and pinned them down together at his back, he felt too tired to fight anymore, he surrendered to the metal being wrapped around his fists, a handcuff. As the handcuff clicked, he suddenly felt weak, sadness invaded him as if something inside of him had just been taken away. It was his magic. It was fading to the point he barely could feel it anymore. No, not that.

— What did you do to me? – the panic rendered Sam breathless, he felt cold, as if he was being left to die alone in the snow – What did you do to me??! – he shouted, Dean his Sam’s head on the shelf again, making him feel dizzy, sensing the blood tracing down the skin on the side of his head, pouring from a fresh wound on his head.

— Relax, little brother – Dean whispered into the other man’s ear – It’s just a enchantment on the cuffs to make you powerless until I decide what to do with you – Sam felt his insides melt with pure rage, hot tears started pouring out of his eyes.

— No please – he shook his head, whispering, teeth clenching, while Dean dragged him out of the cabin.   


	3. Doom.

              While stumbling through the woods, Sam’s mind was trying to drift away from what was happening, far away from Dean’s strong grip on his arm, leading him away from all the dreams he had had while in those woods. Sam’s mind started to focus on the good things he had lived on the past months.

              When they passed through a mighty oak tree, that had been warded by Sam, he remembered the day he laid down on its roots, thinking about where magic came from, while seeking to absorb the tree’s energy. He came to the conclusion that magic, to him, was light, a powerful feeling that flowed through his veins and made him feel in contact to the essence of life itself. Magic was also words, organized in a certain way that they appeared to carry the meaning of everything and beyond, like when he was a little boy buried in books that were no more than words disposed in such a way that they gave life to a whole new universe. What he understood by magic had been wrong all those years. It was not something that came from a pact with the dark forces or from bloody rituals, it was something that actually came from inside oneself. By concentrating and wishing hard enough while saying the right words or materializing certain thoughts, and by practicing hard enough, anyone could do magic. If one’s intentions were dark, dark would be the magic that they created. It was difficult to come by book on magic in the middle of the woods, so he had become a scavenger. Anyone would be surprised if they knew how many books on the occult were left behind in the forest by people who tried to perform some sort of ritual that didn’t actually work out or were in the hands of small towns’ folk that had no idea what to do with those strange books that had been passed on through their family line for generations. There were many small villages alongside the road that cut through the natural reserve, full of people that were happy to get rid for free of those useless and scary books, so Sam had been well-supplied. His favorite books were those that described the properties of the plants and roots that could be found in the forests on that particular whether. Sam learnt which ones were edible – he tried to keep his meat-eating to a minimum – and which ones would heal or kill. It was nice to possess that kind of knowledge, It was inspiring.

— We are close, baby – Sam knew Dean was speaking to his precious Impala. By the appearance of the leaves on the trees – that had become dry and lifeless – Sam knew they were close to the road. They had been walking for hours by then. They had already walked off the huge circle of warded trees that surrounded the cabin. Sam had marked the trees with enchantments to keep evil out. He glanced at Dean. He didn’t know any spell that could keep _that_ kind of evil away.

               But why magic? Sam had asked himself that question many times. He found it interesting that he was drawn to magic as a way of self-discovery when he was taught magic was wrong all his life. Maybe that was precisely the reason why. He had been taught that so many things – including himself – were wrong that maybe testing for himself what was actually wrong would help him figure out what was right. It was his own personal journey, and one he sensed would be very long and very trying.

— Hello, baby – Dean greeted the car as he shoved Sam on the passenger’s seat.

 

*

 

               The door to the bunker opened, and Sam went through it as a prisoner for the first time. Was it really the first time, after all?

— Home, sweet home – Dean seemed to like talking as if he was pretending to be unaware of what was taking place then or as if Sam was not there.

— Home, sweet home – Sam mumbled, provokingly. Without his magic, the only thing he had left was defiance. Dean ignored his comment and pushed him in the direction of the dungeon, the same place where Crowley had been left on the past, as if they were the same. Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder and pushed his brother down on a chair placed in the middle of the room. Then, Dean uncuffed Sam and proceeded to chain him with heavy shacks, enchanted to kill his magic as well, hands behind his back, Sam felt his arms sore. When he finished, Dean stood still on a dark corner of the room, leant to the all, staring silently at his brother. Sam became self-conscious of his own breathing, the discomfort keeping his thoughts from being able to wonder away.

— I knew, someday, it would come to this – Dean sounded tired.

— Had it now come to it yet? – Sam remembered the demon blood episode, being locked away life something to be hidden. The black sheep of the family, but he would have lied if he said he didn’t take a small pleasure on holding that title, it meant he was not what his family wanted him to be, it was a win, sort of, because it came hand in hand with a death sentence.

—  Sam, why are you doing that to me? – Dean spoke as if he was a hero that was forcibly driven to do terrible things for the sake of the Good Cause. Dean only knew his own cause.

— Why are _you_ doing this to me? – Sam retaliated, struggling against the chains – Why can’t you just let go? Just leave me alone? You just want to live your life right? Well, I just want to live mine too – Sam finished the sentence receiving a punch to his left cheek, the taste of blood flooded his mouth.

— Because we are family, that’s why

— You seem to be able to justify anything with that motto of yours – Sam spat red on the floor.

— Oh yeah! How damn terrible that I have a way of justifying my actions! And what about you, Sammy? Can you stay true to anything or are you going to keep running away all your life?

— Yes – Sam raised his head, looking right into Dean’s eyes – Running away from you – Dean knocked Sam cold, then marching towards the door without looking back.

 


	4. Stay.

          Sam woke up to the sound of Castiel’s voice coming from somewhere near the door to the dungeon, his head was hurting really bad, he found himself alone in the dark, still chained to a chair, he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers.

— To think that… - Castiel’s voice was clear as day even through the heavy metal door.

— To think that you seem to be on his side instead of mine – Dean sounded drunk, Sam knew exactly how he sounded after too many beers, his voice echoed on the dungeon walls, filling the room, creating a dark cloud above that weighted down on Sam. Sam bowed his head down, trying to escape the oppressive feeling.

— I am not _taking_ sides, I am _telling_ you this has to stop – Castiel paused – Now!

— Not taking sides, hun? – Sam could hear Dean’s steps distancing themselves from the door – So you better disappear from here, what about that?

— Dean, I…

— Go away, Cas! – Dean shouted from down the hallway, his steps could not he heard anymore. Sam struggled on the chair, suddenly very awake and alert, his mind couldn’t stop thinking about the things Dean would do to him. The worst thing would be turning his mother against him, even worse than depriving him of his magic, Sam wouldn’t bear it if his mother was to be taken away from him again. His was fighting not to think all the choices he made and that had led him to that situation were stupid. He was right to do all that, that’s what he wanted to do, he wasn’t hurting anyone, he repeated to himself, at the same time unable to shake off the feeling of guilt.

— Are you all right? – Sam lost his breath, surprised to see a shadow standing before him. Cas.

— I am growing used to it – Sam gave himself a hollow smile. He was indeed, growing used to it, to the point he couldn’t imagine his life without all the humiliations and distrust.

— You are hurt – Castiel approached the man chained to the chair.

— I am fine – despite saying that, Sam felt the angel’s touch on his forehead, and suddenly the headache was gone, as well as the soreness on his fingers. Sam felt he didn’t deserve that, to not feel pain.

— I can sense it – Castiel firmly pressed Sam’s chest with the palm of his hand – The magic. I have never seen anything like it, it’s untainted. It’s asleep, but still there.

— It’s the chains – Sam made them jingle.

— Dean was wrong, I knew it

— Wrong about what?

— About you. Changing – Castiel spoke slowly, making pauses to think – You changed, yes, but you remained the same, you are still good.

— Not afraid of me turning you into a frog? – Sam giggled, but the darkness muffled his voice. He heard Castiel sit on the floor, his shadowy figure remained still, in silence.

— Is that a yes? – Sam was afraid of the answer, he truly cared about Cas, he hoped Cas could still see through him, he hoped Cas still knew him.

— No – the angel spoke, reassuring as if he could sense the other man’s worries – This is wrong. Dean should have never done this – Castiel shook his head, sounding confused – I can’t understand…

— Dean can’t stand being alone. Or having a freak for a brother.

— You are not a freak, we fought freaks, evil in flesh and bone.

— … Thank you, Cas – Sam tried not to show how relieved he was to hear that, suddenly the chains seemed a little less heavy. They both stood in silence for a while.

— Magic – Cas began to say – Magic is here since the beginning, even I am not here from the very start. But all angels know that magic was made part of the things that exist because God wanted to give mankind a way of altering reality without needing Him. It is a tool, it was never meant to be used for evil purposes, it was a statement of the faith God had in men in the beginning of all there is – Sam felt something pulsing with life inside of his chest. As Cas’ explanation went on, Sam felt calmer, delighted with what he was hearing.

— So… - Sam lost himself in thoughts, he felt the darkness around him embracing him, but not oppressing him, hurting him, but leading him more and more inside himself, where he could finally see light.

— So you’ve done nothing wrong

— Dean doesn’t see it that way

— Dean will never see things as they are, but as he believes them to be. He is a blind man and you have nothing to do with it

— But then how will I prove to him that…

— You won’t – Castiel interrupted him – You don’t have to, that’s what I am trying to tell you. Run away, Sam, help people your own way, live on your own terms. That’s what I left heaven for, independence. And I have not come to earth to see good intentions gone to waste. I have been around for a long time, watching what Dean does to you, I cannot stand here without doing nothing anymore

— Yeah, about running away… - Sam struggled against his chains – I am having a little problem here – he was trying to run away and hide inside sarcasm because he was scared to think about going out in the world alone, without those demons from the past, self-doubt and guilt, weighting down on his shoulders, about being, finally, who he was without Dean always standing on the corner of his eye, holding him back.

— I will help you escape – Castiel sounded confident about what he had just said. Sam’s eyes widened.

— You can’t, Dean would never speak to you again

— I don’t care

— Cas, I…

— Sam – Castiel stood up and leaned against the other man, landing his hands on his shoulders – I want to do it – Sam remained quiet, words could never express the confusion and the pure happiness and excitement that took over him – Dean mentioned a cabin, think about it, materialize it in your mind – the angel whispered as he touched Sam’s forehead with two fingers.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go, and maybe later I'll think about making this a part of a series


	5. Run.

               The next breath that Sam took was pure and humid. He and Cas were in the middle of the cabin in the woods, they could hear the leaves of the trees dancing in the wind, singing about longing, singing about belonging. Sam massaged his wrists, looking around as if he was afraid something bad would happen and ruin the beauty of the moment. But nothing happened, there were just them in the room, Dean wasn’t around, it had worked, but Sam was afraid that, by admitting that, every good thing would be torn to pieces.

— Gather your things, I’ll be back in a moment – Castiel then walked towards the door in a fast pace.

— Wait, where are you going?

— I need to take care of some things, I’ll be quick, I promise – and just like that he was nowhere to be seen, leaving Sam behind with a confused look on his face.

               Sam turned around and faced the walls covered in shelves. There were many things Sam wished to take with him, but first Sam had to get his old suitcase from under his bed. The suitcase was big and heavy and seemed more like a chest with handles, he threw it on the bed and opened it, looking inside it for the hidden pocket which had an old amulet and a photography of his parents. Many times, Sam had wished to tear that picture apart and separate Mary’s smiley face from the dark and serious figure of John. But he couldn’t do that, even if his dad wasn’t part of Sam’s history, he was part of Mary’s, and she was happy with him, Sam couldn’t bring them apart again, so the photograph remained intact for all those years. The amulet was a very detailed skull made of some rusty metal that had a tiny flower coming out of its left eye. Sam had found the amulet on the way to visit his mother’s graveyard many years ago, it was laying on the glass just a few steps from Mary’s buried body. He had found it beautiful in a strange way, he had interpreted it as a reminder of the life that could blossom from the things that rotted, so he took it with him, and kept it in secret. Now, he held it in his hand, finally sensing his magic coming back to him, as if the amulet was giving him a gift, as the effect of the enchantments on the shackles wore off.

               Sam stored the amulet and the photograph away on the hidden pocket of the suitcase again and proceeded to sort out the things he would take with him. He didn’t know where he was going, so he made sure to throw inside the suitcase everything he could fit inside it, making sure every flask was sealed so they wouldn’t spill their contents all over during the trip. The trip to where? He was picturing a desert island where he could be left alone to study. No, he quickly discarded that possibility, what good would that do if there wouldn’t be anyone around for him to help? No, a desert island wouldn’t do. Maybe he could even go to a big city, where he could purchase every book and ingredient he wished from the black market and where he could disappear among millions of other people. Yes, that was more like it. So Sam kept some roots and plants out of suitcase, those which smelled like corpses and would attract unwanted attention. There was little room left for anything else, so he threw in only another jeans and a clean shirt and the little money he had left. He would need to get a job. Maybe he finally would be able to work on a library like he always wanted. He would be able to walk among those enormous bookshelves, to let himself be swallowed by all those stories and knowledge on the verge of forgetfulness. He dreamt about bringing it all to life once again, like he had done to that raven. Living in parallel worlds at day, helping people at night, everyday his magic getting stronger, that seemed perfect to Sam. Finally, he realized, he was picturing a way out that could actually turn out to be real. Even after he had escaped and hidden away in the middle of the forest, he didn’t truly felt he had gotten away from everything that was holding him back. He stayed in that cabin, settled down even if his heart was screaming at him to keep running, and he did that maybe because he wanted to be found. There was a time that he couldn’t picture how life would be without his dad shouting orders and Dean calling him a monster for every step he took, and maybe that time wasn’t so far behind him. Sam sighed, closing the straps of his trunk and concentrating in not shamming himself for still not being able to move one, a common reflex that was taught by his lovely family and that he was still trying to get rid of. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the wind as if it carried some kind of answer. Maybe it truly did, for what followed.

— Sam, I couldn’t take you away without doing something first – Sam listened to Castiel’s steps behind him.

— Hum? – he murmured in response, not paying too much attention until he heard a second pair of steps. He snapped his eyes open and turned around quickly, his first reaction was to think Cas had changed his mind and had brought Dean back, Sam didn’t want to expect the worst of people – or, in that matter, angels – but he couldn’t turn off the switch on his mind that warned him about everything and everyone. Survivor’s burden, some called it, but to Sam it was just annoying. But the room was lightened up by a the golden locks of hair of his mother, that stepped slowly towards him with a smile that didn’t show disappointment or shame, Sam was not used to smiles pure like that, with no hidden meanings.

— My son… – Mary’s smile grew even larger when she laid her eyes on Sam.


End file.
